


Mirror Mirror (and two times more)

by dvs



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn and Gus take a fork in the road. Or two. Or four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Mirror (and two times more)

**Author's Note:**

> For the awesome Suz on her birthday.

**It Takes a Thief (Or Two) **

"It was an inside job, I'm telling you."

Carlton sighed. "And what the hell makes you so sure, Spencer?"

The other man looked worn out when he said, "Experience, Detective. Years of experience."

"Henry-" Carlton started.

Henry held up his hands, "Look, I'm just a consultant, okay? And I've consulted. It's up to you to catch these guys."

"What makes you think there's more than one?" Juliet asked, brow furrowing.

Henry shook his head, "Let's just say it's a hunch."

# *

"It's the most beautiful thing ever," Gus almost sniffed, his eyes stinging.

"Oh it's beautiful all right. You could probably melt this baby down and make a suit. With a top hat."

"Melt it down? You must be out of your damn mind, Shawn. You know how expensive these things are? They're top of the range. Virtually uncrackable."

"Unless you're Gus Slick-Fingers Burton. Right, buddy?"

"You got that right," Gus said with pride.

"Just one thing. Maybe we should re-think the name Slick-Fingers," Shawn suggested.

Gus nodded, "I was gonna say."

"Also? I was talking about melting down this solid gold cherub we just stole. Not the safe," Shawn said, holding up the cherub and smiling in victory. After a while, he frowned at the cherub. “I'm going to put this down now. It's creeping me out.”

# *

They arrived at _Laundromatique_ some time after three in the morning, way before the cops would even know the cherub was even gone. And that was why it made no sense the door was ajar and the lights on. Gus and Shawn looked at each other.

"Someone must really need to clean their sheets," Gus said.

Shawn nodded and then frowned at Gus. “Really? You don't see the irony of me owning a laundromat?”

Gus glared. “You might as well put up a sign advertising your criminal pursuits, Shawn. And stop telling people you have to go work to do some laundering. It's not funny.”

“Of course it is,” Shawn said. “You're just not finding it funny. Are you hungry? Sleepy? Windy.”

_Hello. Hello. _

Gus and Shawn both jumped at the sound of the ringtone. After a moment of collecting themselves, Gus answered, "Hello." He nodded as he listened and looked at Shawn. "He says we should come in before we catch a cold."

Shawn narrowed his eyes at the store. “What a thoughtful intruder.”

Gus and Shawn both stiffly shuffled into the dimly lit laundromat, stopping when they saw a man elegantly sitting on a folding chair, an open album on his lap, a gun in his hand pointed at the two men before him.  
Gus sighed in relief. "Despereaux."

Shawn said, "Dude, I thought we agreed we were going to call you."

"That's what they all say," Despereaux said smoothly. "And then you wait and wait and wait and nothing. What's a poor girl to do?"

Gus frowned and leaned into Shawn, "Did you promise to take him out on a date or something?"

Shawn pulled a face and shook his head. Then he seemed to think it over a bit longer. "At least I don't think I did. Let me check my giggle calender."

Gus grabbed Shawn before he could wander off. "Forget it. And you know it's called Google."

“I've heard it both ways.”

Gus glared at Shawn and then turned to their guest. "We've got your goods. Do you have the money?"

Despereaux smiled. "Show me what I want first and then I'll show you your payment."

Shawn nodded and looked at Gus. "Please tell me he's talking about the creepy golden baby."

Gus elbowed Shawn in the stomach and took off his rucksack, holding it out, not moving from where he stood. Despereaux smiled and got up, walking towards them. He handed the album he had been flicking through to Shawn and took the rucksack to the counter. Meanwhile Gus noticed the album Shawn was flicking through.

"I can't believe you just left that lying around, Shawn!"

"I was getting nostalgic," Shawn explained and then laughed at a picture. "Oh look, the dog saloon business we opened when we were eight. We totally should have stuck with it. Your grooming skills are wasted in accountancy. How could something so awesome end so badly?"

A click of Despereaux's gun made them look up and shriek before Gus said, "A bit like this?"

Shawn laughed nervously and said, "Come on, you're not going to kill us. Besides you, we're the only ones who could have lifted that thing. And I'm not just talking about Gus's gym body." Gus straightened up a little at that.

Despereaux smiled and lowered the gun before slowly walking around the counter. He lifted up a small steel briefcase and opened it, turning it around for Shawn and Gus. 

"It really is quite amazing how no matter how many times you see money stacked in that way it just does not get old," Shawn said. Gus made a slightly squeaky noise as he nodded. "Gus? Why don't you put our fee in our high security deposit box?" Gus frowned at Shawn. Shawn discreetly moved closer and whispered, “The laundry sack in the closet.”

Gus nodded and slowly went towards the case under Despereaux's gaze. He closed the case and swiftly went into the back room, leaving Despereaux and Shawn watching each other.

"The thing I don't understand is how you two clowns actually managed this." he said, walking out from behind the counter and taking the rucksack.

"We took off our big shoes and squeaky noses first, although we did keep on the baggy pants. It helps with stealing, but mostly because they're just really comfortable after dinner," Shawn trailed off as Despereaux stood before him.

Despereaux put his gun away and reach into his pocket, taking out a small business card and holding it out to Shawn. "If you ever feel like having a partner in crime."

Shawn took the card and nodded. "I'm touched, but Gus pretty much already has that written on all of his stationary. And his gym bag. Back of his underwear. On his pyjamas. Well, they're my pyjamas now, but that's a whole other story." Despereax frowned at Shawn. "What?"

"Your father," Despereaux said. "He's a consultant for the police department. I fully expected you to double cross me and yet all the evidence suggests that the police have no idea what's happened here. You leave me with no reason to doubt you."

"That's... a good thing, right?" Shawn said. “That sounds like a good thing. You're not pointing your gun anymore, so... yeah. I'm going with it being a good-”

"Why haven't you sold me out?" Despereaux asked bluntly.

Shawn considered one of the many glib answers at his disposal, but found himself saying, "I don't have a lot of time for the police department,"

"The police department or your father?" Despereaux asked.

Shawn looked at Despereuax with utmost seriousness. "In that police department is a vending machine that stole a quarter from me. It's not something I can let go of very easily. That's just the kind of guy I am. Well, it was Gus's quarter, but I was really hungry at the time."

"Do you often equate cold metallic objects that fail to give you what you want to your father?" Despereaux asked with an easy smile.

Shawn smiled back, his face feeling a little tight as he tried to find the right words. “Wow. A thief and psychologist.”

“Quite,” Despereaux said, looking a little too smug as he headed for the door. “I'll be sure to thank the police department for their lack of effort in keeping their vending machines well maintained. Their loss was my gain.”

Shawn snorted and turned to look at Despereaux. “What, you think I was going to be a cop?”

Despereaux looked Shawn up and down, before opening the door. “Besides a liar and a thief, Mr. Spencer, I can't quite picture you as anything else.”

Despereaux left as Shawn scowled and yelled after him, “Yeah, well... I'm not the only liar and thief here, you know!” Gus joined him at his side and glared. “What? You should totally get credit where credit is due.”

**Hammer Time Homicide **

Shawn slurped up his pineapple smoothie as he quietly observed the current activity. The blonde lady cop seemed serious and focused and the tall lanky guy cop seemed so ultra serious and focused Shawn was worried he might actually snap in two. As tall, lanky and serious cop approached, Shawn dropped his unfinished smoothie into a nearby potted plant.

“Detective. News?” Shawn asked, standing in the way of the other man.

The cop frowned down at him. “I don't know. That depends on who you are and why you need to know?”

Shawn held up his fake badge. “Detective Seymour Butts. I'm new in town and decided to get down and dirty as soon as possible. It's a habit I've retained from when I was a toddler. You can ask my mother. She'll confirm that I pretty much can't be left unattended for even a second.”

The cop peered at him as if he were some kind of strange item on display in a museum that only displayed strange items and perhaps Shawn was maybe too strange even for this museum of strange items.

“First of all,” the cop said, “I can pretty much lock you up and throw away the key for trying to impersonate an officer of the law. Second of all, I would be gunning for the death penalty purely for the fact that you couldn't come up with a better name than something used for a juvenile prank. And finally, who the hell are you?”

Shawn gawked at the man. “You don't recognize me?”

The man peered at Shawn, suddenly looking alert and scary and very suspicious. “Why? Should I?”

“Whoa, why are you reaching for your gun?” Shawn asked, watching the cop's hand closing around the gun in his holster.

The cop frowned down at his hand and then loosened up a little. “Force of habit.”

“Oh my god, Shawn Spencer?”

Shawn smiled as he heard the rather pleased exclamation. The tall man turned to his partner who was standing behind him looking pretty damn impressed. He frowned at her. “You know this guy, O'Hara?”

“Carlton, don't you own a television?” she asked.

“Yeah, Carlton, don't you own a television?” Shawn asked, winking at O'Hara who may have blushed slightly.

“I used to. Now my ex-wife owns it,” Carlton said plainly.

“This is Shawn Spencer. He plays TV's Detective Kade Hammer on the show _Hammer Time_,” O'Hara said, as Shawn provided a pose from one of the latest posters.

“Crime's a disease. Now meet the cure,” Shawn said, with a gravelly voice.

Carlton frowned. “That's from the movie _Cobra_, isn't it?”

Shawn thought it over. Yes. Yes it was. He turned in the vague direction of the creative team's chairs. “Gus? Ixnay on the line about Hammer being a cure!”

“I love your show,” O'Hara said when he turned back. “That episode where you took five bullets and then jumped on that moving train and got rid of the grenade with your teeth because your hands were tied? My favorite.”

Shawn beamed. “Thank you. We work hard on trying to produce a realistic crime drama.”  
“You have got to be kidding me,” Carlton said.

Shawn smiled. “No, we really are that awesome.”

Carlton gave Shawn an odd look, which Shawn chose to accept as awe, perhaps envy, maybe even lust, who could say? Then he was walking away towards the director, a menacing look on his face, O'Hara following, after she waved Shawn goodbye with a definite twinkle in her eye.

“Shawn!” Shawn twisted around to see Gus who had his laptop with him as ever and a look of worry. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”

Shawn spread out his arms. “Just follow the smell of success. Or pineapples. You think success actually has a smell? I mean, who makes something like that up?”

Gus stared at him. “Shawn, aren't you even a little worried?”

Shawn blinked. “Should I be? I mean, this could just be a linguistical... linguist... linguistic? That doesn't sound right.”

“_Shawn_,” Gus said in the way one might talk to a small child. “I'm talking about the guy who just died outside the studio in very suspicious circumstances.”

Shawn stared. “Died? What? I- someone told me he'd _lied_ about something and now the cops are here! I thought it had something to with embezzlement. Again.”

“Oh my god,” Gus said.

He Shawn and looked at each other then, a little slyly perhaps. Shawn said, “You taking notes? We could probably use some of this stuff.”

“I've got ten pages,” Gus said conspiratorially patting his laptop.

“Sad about the dead guy though,” Shawn said solemnly.

“I know,” Gus said with a nod. “What did the cops say?”

“Detective O'Hara likes the show,” Shawn said, pleased. “Her partner seems undecided. Look at him. All cold and disdainful. No time for funny business, I don't care what his tie says.”

“Oh no,” Gus muttered. “I know where this is going.”

“You're right, Gus! I think it's time we tweaked Hammer's personality. Gave him some of this real edge. A man who has no time for laughing or fashion.”

“So you'll be getting the same haircut too?” Gus asked.

“Gus, don't be the sticky toffee apple in the bag of candy. Dude, you're the head writer. You can totally do this. It's time Hammer got heavy,” Shawn said with a curl of his lip. “Oh! You know what would be awesome? Gus? Gus? Buddy? Hello?”

# *

“Are you out of your mind?” Carlton snapped. Vick gave him a cool look. He rectified his response. “What I meant to say, Chief, surely you need to sit on this idea for a while. For instance until this idiotic show is cancelled.”

“I resent that remark,” Shawn said. “_Hammer Time_ could never be cancelled.”

“Chief, this is not a good idea. O'Hara and I have serious work to do and we can't be babysitting some actor.”

“Which is why the chief has kindly agreed to lend you to myself and our chief writer, Gus,” Shawn said.

Gus held up a hand. “Hello.”

“Excuse me?” Carlton asked.

Vick sighed and said, “Detective, I may have volunteered your services as a consultant on _Hammer Time_. It's a popular show and it represents our department.” Vick looked a little shifty. “I think it might be better if one of our people was actually there to provide assistance on the realism of the show.”

“Are you saying our show's unrealistic?” Gus asked as he and Shawn looked most offended.

Vick smiled sweetly, “Yes, I am.”

Gus and Shawn looked at each other and shrugged. She was kind of right. Carlton was kind of wilted and Shawn had kind of moved on to batting his eyelashes at O'Hara who was waving at him from her desk.

# *

“Put that old lady down before I fill you full of holes!” Hammer threatened on the screen, his incredibly shiny gun aimed at the villain of the week. The old lady was put down, the villain apprehended and Kade Hammer shoved the punk into the back of a waiting police car before turning to his partner with a disdainful twist to his mouth.

“He won't be stealing from old ladies in a long time,” Hammer said, his voice lower than usual.

“Good work, partner,” Hammer's partner said, somewhat out of shot. The credits rolled.

Shawn turned to look at his father who was seated between him and Gus. Henry looked at them both, shifting uncomfortably. “Well, it's better.” Shawn and Gus high-fived across him. Then he added, “You still can't tell people we're related.”

Shawn stood up and flailed while Gus gave him the sign for 'you're about to make an ass of yourself'. “Seriously? You're still telling people I've gone to Tibet to find enlightenment?”

Henry got up, glaring. “What am I supposed to say? I brought you up to be a great cop and you decided to be a fake cop instead? Look, I'm glad you found something you love, Shawn, but that show? That's not police work. There's no room for quips and hijinks in real police work, kid. Trust me, I know.” Shawn watched as Henry sighed and headed for the kitchen, turning to give both Shawn and Gus a slightly guilty look. “You boys want some pie?”

Shawn and Gus both gave half-hearted nods. When Henry was out of earshot, Shawn said, “Did you hear that?”

“The thing about the quips and hijinks?” Gus asked.

“We should totally use that line,” Shawn said.

“I already wrote it down,” Gus said showing Shawn his hand.

Shawn grinned, “Good work, partner.”

**Law and Order : Subliminal Intent **

Gus sat down at the café table, watching Shawn with open suspicion. Shawn was far too still and controlled, which meant he was working hard on not annoying Gus from the offset.

“Okay,” Shawn said quietly, “I've got a potential client for you.”

Gus picked up his briefcase and got up. “It was nice having lunch with you, Shawn, goodbye.”

“Gus, come on! At least listen,” Shawn said, thinking nothing of lunging across the table to grab Gus's arm. “Buddy. Pal.”

“Shawn, the last time you brought me a case I became a laughing stock,” Gus said. “I made Jay Leno!”

“Until we proved her innocent,” Shawn said. “Come on, man, we're the long arm of the law, man, we're like _L.A. Law_ and _Miami Vice_. You can't just bail on me.”

Gus seemed to think it over. “I know it might look that way, Shawn, but guess again, because if it's one of those things where you found someone with a gun in their hand shouting 'I'm glad I killed the bastard', I'm not doing it.”

Shawn gave Gus an affronted look. “_Gus_. I would never do that to you.”

Gus frowned. “You _did_ do that to me.”

“It was the one time. And you proved he was innocent, if slightly insane,” Shawn said, waving a hand at Gus. “Me and Lassie are officially not allowed to pursue this any longer.”

“Unofficially?” Gus asked.

Shawn gave a nod. “Unofficially, Lassie's eating pancakes right behind you to make sure you don't try to make a run for it.”

Gus frowned and looked at the man behind him. Lassiter turned around and nodded at Gus. “Guster.”

“Lassie,” Gus said with a nod before turning to Shawn and arguing with him in the ancient tongue of Shawn and Gus gibberish until Lassiter pulled up a chair and joined them.

“Look, Guster,” he said, “Something about this case does not add up. The courtroom's the place you can pull it apart. Now, being divorced I don't know if this is even relevant anymore, but usually after a job well done, it's possible your wife might forget you're actually a twelve year old and throw you a party in your pants for being a successful professional capable man.”

Shawn suppressed a smile as Gus glared at him at him said, “Mira is a sophisticated woman. She would never throw anyone a party in their pants. Especially me- I mean-”

“Is that why you're so cranky?” Lassiter asked quite seriously.

“That's not what I-” Gus turned away from Lassiter to aim his frustration at Shawn. “You know what I mean, stop playing.”

“Look, man, I didn't want to manipulate your emotions, it's why I didn't want to tell you,” Shawn said with a sigh.

Gus straightened up. “What? Tell me what?”

“This guy could go to prison for life. He's got these two sweet kids and no one to look after them. One of them talks with a lisp, man. She was all 'Misther Polithe Offither, thir, when ith my daddy coming home'?”

Gus swallowed, blinking rapidly while Lassiter stared at Shawn and said, “That was his little boy, Spencer.”

Gus seemed to squeak in distress at that. “I'll do it. I mean, I'll take a look at the files, but I'm not promising anything.”

“Thank you, Guth,” Shawn said in his little girl voice.

“That's not funny, Shawn,” Gus said. He got up and glared at the seated men. “Lunch with you guys sucks.”

# *

Gus headed home for a late lunch with Mira, having not enjoyed his light lunch with Shawn and Lassiter. Mira was thrilled to see him at home so easily in the day rather than in the too late part of it, dragging him into the living room and pushing him down on the couch.

“See, this is why you should work with Daddy,” she said. “You wouldn't have to work long hours at all. We could spend more time together, just like this.”

Gus held her tight and smiled. “But I hate your father.”

Mira pushed him away, lightly punching him. “Gus!”

“He hates me too,” Gus explained calmly.

“Baby, that's not true,” Mira said, stroking Gus's cheek.

“He told me,” Gus said. “On my birthday. While I was cutting the cake.”

Mira sobered. “Oh. Yeah.” She smiled at Gus. “He does a little. But only because your friend arrested him on our wedding.”

Gus shifted a little. “Shawn apologized and he had just cause. And he had to deal with my mom after the wedding.”

“Is she talking to him yet?” Mira asked.

“Mostly in yes and no answers,” Gus said with a shrug. “Anyway, forget that. I was thinking we could spend the afternoon together, just you and me.”

“That's so sweet, Gus,” Mira said, beaming at Gus and going straight into his embrace. “Daddy said he might drop by. It'll be great, we can all have coffee.”

Gus got up, Mira slipping right through his embrace. “Bye.”

“Gus, you can't avoid him forever,” Mira said, getting up.

Gus straightened his tie and picked up his briefcase. “That may be, but I'm willing to give it a try and see how pans out.”

# *

Shawn frowned at Gus who was sitting next to him on the couch. “You sure Mira's okay with you staying over?”

Gus nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Her dad visiting?”

“Uh huh.”

Shawn held out his fist received a bump. He went back to his bottle of beer and the TV. “Need a place for the night?”

“Uh huh.” Gus picked up his beer. “Hey, I heard the Feds were sniffing around.”

“Yep,” Shawn said, slowly nodding. “Agent O'Hara.”

“Did she punch you this time?”

“No. She said, 'oh great, you again.' Dude, she totally remembered me.”

“Probably because her fist still hurts from where it cracked your face.”

“It did not crack my face. I slipped and fell back and hit my face on Lassie's desk after she punched me. Then Lassie told her no one slaps his partner around on police time and to take it outside if she had a problem before asking her what shade of black her jacket was.”

Gus shrugged. “I've seen those jackets. That's a pretty impressive shade of black.”

“And you're a pretty unimpressive shade of supportive friend, Gus,” Shawn said with a scowl.

Gus looked a little chastened. “I meant to say, he must be out of his damn mind. Jerk chicken?”

“You know that's right.”

**The Psychic (And the doctor... and the private eye...) **

Gus watched quietly, pretending to write on the clipboard in his hand. The head detective of the SBPD was grilling a familiar private detective for endangering his life unnecessarily, again, as he sat sullenly on the edge of a gurney, arm in a sling.

“Do not give me a reason to arrest you, Carlton, because I _will_ find it,” Detective O'Hara said menacingly before turning on her heel and striding away.

“Hello,” Gus said as she passed him. She gave him a put upon look and moved on, letting Gus get back to his patient. “She's scary.”

Carlton looked up with the most bored expression imaginable. “I don't do small talk.”

“Seriously? I've fixed you up enough times for this to count as a date and you're telling me you can't even manage some small talk? You're really are Mr. Personality, you know that?”

Carlton sagged a little, his lip curling. He looked at Gus and said, “I was this close to nailing that guy. What happens? The cops show up and ruin everything. Their timing really sucks.”

“Yeah, it blows,” Gus said. “You know if O'Hara's seeing anyone?”

Carlton gave Gus a dirty look. “Can I go now?”

Gus nodded. “Sure. See you again in a few weeks?”

Carlton made a face. “Oh great. A funny doctor. Let's make this really painful and bring O'Hara back to give me a root canal.”

“Don't tempt me,” Gus said, signing off the sheet on his clipboard. “You going back out after that guy?”

“I have to, if I'm going to keep the fee for this case,” Carlton said, already walking away from gurney. “I just need to figure out how he's doing all of this.”

“Maybe what you need is a fresh pair of eyes,” Gus said. “A different perspective.”

Carlton turned and looked at Gus, flatly telling him, “Look, I'm flattered you're making excuses to spend time with me, but we're not compatible.”

“You're damn right we're not compatible,” Gus said with a scowl. “I meant seriously, maybe you need some help on this case.” Carlton frowned and Gus quickly shook his head. “Not from me.”

“You've got someone in mind?” Gus nodded. “Cop?”

Gus made a face. “Not exactly.”

# *

“In that old kitchen there,” the old man said, peering at Shawn through one wide eye, the other almost squinting shut. “Under that floor,” he said in a strong southern accent. “You gotta show someone, boy. I can't take much more of this.”

The door slammed shut hard and Shawn twisted around, dropping the coat in his hand and stumbling back, falling on the floor with a thud.

“Shawn!” Gus was by his side in seconds, pulling him up with someone's help and manoeuvring him to the beat up couch in his junk shop.

It took a moment for Shawn to realize Gus was peering into his eyes, checking him for a fever and checking his pulse. Shawn slapped his hands away and for a minute they were both slapping at each other until Gus stood up and straightened himself out under the scrutiny of a man Shawn didn't recognize.

“Gus, I can see a tall pale gangly figure,” Shawn said quietly. “I think he's trying to tell me something.”

Gus cleared his throat as the gangly fellow frowned. “This is Carlton Lassiter, Shawn, private eye. I told him I have a friend with a keen eye for observation who might be able to help out on a case.”

Shawn frowned as Gus nodded towards the door to the back room. Shawn decided not to understand the gesture. Gus then mumbled the suggestion at Shawn so Carlton couldn't decipher the words. Shawn mumble-hissed his objection right back until they were both arguing in gibberish.

“Shawn!” Gus finally snapped. Shawn stood up and followed.

They stood in the doorway to the back room, Shawn watching as Lassiter seemed to find every object in the store objectionable. “Gus, I told you before, I'm not interested in making this a career opportunity. There are so many other things I can do to be called a freak.”

“Shawn, I understand,” Gus said. “But, all those visions you've been having? Shawn... that stuff happened to Lassiter. I think you're having visions about his case, and if that's true-”

Shawn stared at Lassiter, “Then he's... he's going to die.” Gus was quietly nodding. “Which means I have to help him.”

“Obviously, I'm not saying you should go out there with him, because that's insane-”

Shawn bounded back out and announced, “You're in luck, Lassie. Gus has convinced me to lend you my extraordinary powers of observation.” Shown pointed to his temple and then at Lassiter to illustrate.

“This is a bad idea,” Lassiter said, turning to leave.

“Probably. But maybe you'll find what you're looking for and that's not so bad, is it?” Shawn asked.

Lassiter turned back and looked at Shawn. “What makes you think you can see something I'm not seeing?”

Shawn shrugged. “That's just the way the missing pieces of a puzzle work sometimes. Like this,” he said, picking up a stuffed indescribable object. “What is it? I don't know. Do you know? Does Gus know? Does anyone know? Probably not. But maybe someone knows and that's the missing piece of the puzzle right there.”

Lassiter nodded. “That's also probably the most imbecilic thing I've ever heard in my entire life.”

“Is it? Or is it so profound it kind of blew your mind?”

Carlton nodded. “I'm sticking with imbecilic. Still, if you can help me catch this scumbag, I don't give a rat's ass what it means and how many of my brain cells I lose in the process of listening to you.”

Shawn grinned at Gus. “I like this one, Gus, he's got moxy.” Gus shook his head as Shawn said, “Pineapple smoothies on me. You got something I can look at, Lassie?”

Lassiter nodded. “I brought the files. They're in Guster's car. Also, call me Lassie again and I _will_ shoot you.”

“No you won't. You'll come to love and cherish it and ultimately yearn for it,” Shawn said. “I'll get my jacket and lock up. You guys go ahead.”

Lassiter shook his head with a sigh and walked on ahead. Gus turned to look at Shawn and said, “You all right?”

“Filled to the brim with girlish glee, Gus,” Shawn said.

“That's not how it looked when we walked in here,” Gus said.

Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes. “Gus.”

Gus nodded. “I know. I'm not allowed to get serious unless your head starts spinning and you're projectile vomiting.” Shawn opened his mouth to correct Gus who held up a hand and said, “I _know_, maybe not even then.”

“Especially not then, Gus, _especially_ not then,” Shawn said.

Gus sighed. “Fine. I'll wait outside. Call me if you see any dead people.”

“Would I ever keep all the fun stuff to myself, Gus?” Shawn called out as Gus left and he set up closing up shop.

As Shawn grabbed his jacket and keys, he noticed the coat which had fallen from his grasp just before Gus and Lassiter had arrived. He crouched down slowly, reaching towards it. Taking a deep breath he let his fingers touch the material and almost instantly his wrist was in the icy wet grasp of spindly fingers.

“You gonna go look for me, boy?” the old man rasped. “You gonna see what they did to me?”

Shawn stared, his eyes locked wide and stinging as he gasped, “You going to leave me alone, if I do?”

“I just want to leave,” the old man rasped. “I just want to leave.”

Shawn tugged on his hand until he was finally released, falling against the counter and almost choking as he tried to breathe. He got up shakily and looked at the coat on the floor. “That is so messed up.”

the end


End file.
